Show Me How to Live
by ajc-az.jmd3
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley fail, and the world is lost forever, a new one made. Songfic.


Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley fail, and the world is lost forever, a new one made. God reinvents man and woman, and all the animals. The second first man's name is Aaron. Aaron has a favourite angel, and a favourite demon. Songfic.

Aziraphale had been reluctant to tell him; he could always tell when the angel was uncomfortable. He didn't know how, he just did. Perhaps he got it from spending so much time with Crowley, the demon.

Aziraphale hadn't wanted to tell, but Crowley had begged and pleaded. Aaron knew that Aziraphale was the only being that Crowley ever begged or pleaded for, and Aaron knew he was the only one who got to see it when it happened.

Eventually, Aziraphale had given in. Crowley was the only being that Aziraphale ever gave in to, and Aaron knew he was the only one who got to see that, too.

So they told him, together. In great detail, they told him. It was horrible. But Aaron supposed that was the point, wasn't it? It was the Apocalypse.

Aaron was not amused.

_And with the early dawn, moving right along_

_Couldn't buy an eyeful of sleep._

Aaron didn't sleep very well when he was upset. He didn't really need to sleep anyway, but he did because it was night, and it just seemed the right thing to do. But he couldn't sleep tonight, so he prayed instead. He didn't really want to, but that's what he'd always done, and it didn't really make sense to just not do something you'd always done for no reason except that you were a little miffed.

Aaron knelt on the ground by his favourite tree, the one whose branches sagged with the weight of juicy apples that no one ever ate. It was the tree Aziraphale and Crowley always came to him from. Aziraphale would sit in the branches, and sometimes slid halfway down the trunk. He never set foot on the ground, though; he wasn't allowed. And Crowley would sit on the ground, or climb halfway up the trunk. He never went any higher though; he wasn't allowed.

Sometimes, they both came at the same time. They thought he didn't notice, but when Aaron turned his head away, he saw it out of the corner of his eye. Aziraphale would creep carefully down the trunk, and Crowley would climb carefully up, and they'd almost touch. They'd get as close as they could – just a hair's breadth away – but they never touched; they weren't allowed.

Aaron had never questioned it before – God had made it so. But now, he wasn't so sure that was a good enough reason.

So he prayed. He told God all about it. And he asked questions. Many, many questions, and he wondered and speculated and he thought about it all. And he wondered allowed about Aziraphale and Crowley, and why they hadn't told him the iwhole/i whole story, though he didn't begrudge them the personal details.

Aaron sat under the tree for a very long while – three days to be exact – and no answer came. Not one.

_And in the aching night, under satellites_

_I was not received._

Aaron thought about the stories Aziraphale and Crowley had told him. He thought about them a lot. He wondered: if God was greedy enough to destroy the world because it wasn't the one he wanted, was he lazy too? Was Aaron really Aaron, or was he someone else, several someone elses, pulled apart and stuck back together different?

God answered him on the fourth day. He told Aaron that there should be no worries in his head, that He had taken care of the other world. He said He'd had to Punish it for breaking the rules, and for taking his Word for granted. And He'd assured Aaron that He'd Punish Aziraphale for planting Lies in his head, though He couldn't do much about Crowley.

Aaron was not amused.

When God called again – for he did it often, just in case, Aaron supposed – Aaron paid the summons no heed. He ignored God.

And he did it again too, multiple times. It began to make his head hurt, but he ignored that too. Way Aaron saw it, God deserved to be ignored. Maybe if God hadn't destroyed the world, he'd have Followers.

_Built with stolen parts_

_A telephone in my heart _

_Someone get me a priest._

The seventh time Aaron ignored God's summons, God changed them to demands. And Aaron got angry. The anger was intense; it flooded his being and overwhelmed him – he'd never felt anger before, after all.

And God got angry back, and it began to rain, and none of the angels visited Aaron anymore, except for Aziraphale. Aziraphale always visited, even when it meant he might fall. He told Aaron that he figured he was going to do that eventually anyway, so why not make it for a good reason? Aaron sometimes wondered if that reason was him, or if it was Crowley, and the maddening question only made him angrier.

And all of his anger was at God. How could He be so selfish?

His anger echoed around in his whole body, ricocheting off of his muscles and bones, reminding him who they were Made by. Aaron's anger vibrates within him, and sometimes he thinks it's almost audible.

_to put my mind to bed-_

_This ringing in my head-_

_Is this a cure or is this a disease?_

Aaron knows that Crowley probably Tempted him, and he knows that Aziraphale didn't even pretend to Thwart, but mostly he knows he is angry, and he feels it is time to do something about it.

So he takes an apple from his favourite tree, and he eats it, just to see what will happen. When nothing does, Aaron gets even angrier, and he steals Aziraphale's flaming sword. He doesn't pause to wonder if it really counts as stealing – it was practically given to him – he just uses it.

First, he uses it to cut down trees to build another house – for his wife, so they can live separately. He realizes now that he never really loved her. He was Made to love her, and she was Made to love him, but he realizes now that love obeys no one and nothing, not even God. Sometimes especially God.

Next, Aaron uses the sword as a weapon. He knows it will do no good against God or against angels, but he uses it against them anyway.

He is Punished.

_Nail in my hand_

_From my creator, _

_You gave me a life now_

_Show me how to live._

God nails him to the tree, and He leaves him there, naked, as an example. An example to nothing, as of now, but Aaron looks up through the branches of the tree and he watches as God makes new men and women. Many of them, and all the while He mutters to Himself about how these ones will learn. Aaron smiles grimly when God says this. He knows it is true. If nothing else, Aaron will teach them.

Aziraphale and Crowley still visit. Crowley sits beneath Aaron, and Aziraphale above, and now the two of them touch through him. He can feel them flow in and out and back and forth inside him; demonic from his feet, angelic from his nailed hands, combining at his heart. He closes his eyes when it happens. It feels good. It feels like completion – when there is both Good and Evil alive and noticeable inside of him, Aaron feels whole.

But sometimes, Aaron gets angry again. Sometimes, when Aziraphale touches him, he can't feel it. At those times, when Crowley touches him, his Evil side completely takes him over. It would be fine and normal for a man, except for the fact that there is no reciprocal. Aaron's Good has never taken over.

_And in the afterbirth on the quiet Earth_

_Let the stains remind you._

_You thought you made a man,_

_You better think again, before my role_

_Defines you._

_Nail in my hand_

_From my creator,_

_You gave me a life now_

_Show me how to live._

He breaks free. He doesn't know how, but he does, and the tree is broken and wounded and left for dead in his wake. He fights God again, and this time he very nearly wins, but – just by a hair – he doesn't. And he is Punished again. He is sent down to Hell.

Lucifer catches Aaron in his fall, and Aaron feels at home. At home, but not whole.

The skin of Man burns off of him, and Aaron screams in pain as red scales and fire in his eyes take its place. And he is still angry, and he knows he will remain that way forever, and he'll beat God one day. He knows it.

Lucifer calls him Wrath and treats him like a son. He doesn't care. He's too angry at God to care.

Lucifer has him married to War. Wrath loves War. She is beautiful and bloody, and she obeys him readily, following him wherever he goes. They couple, and War gives birth – they have Spawn. Ugly children of Hell, and neither of them care. Wrath is too angry to care, and War is too ruthless. They are a perfect match.

Together, Wrath and War wait for the day when they will fight God. The day when they will win.

_And in your waiting hands I will land_

_And roll out of my skin,_

_And in your final hours I will stand_

_Ready to begin._

_Nail in my hand _

_From my creator,_

_You gave me a life now_

_Show me how to live._

Aziraphale was not surprised when he was summoned by God. He _was_ surprised, however, to find that Crowley was as well.

The two of them sat back-to-back, revelling in the fact that they could touch again, though still forced to be respectful and keep it at that.

God asks them, together, a question. He wonders how he should Punish them for ruining his World, his second masterpiece. Neither of them answers his query.

"Perhaps you should just give up, Lord," Aziraphale says. He can feel Crowley's smirk behind him.

"Yeah, either that or take your big Divine Remote and press Rewind," the demon adds. Aziraphale bites down his smile. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he doesn't actually want to Fall.

He always says, when asked – which is not often – that, being God, He put the idea into Crowley's head. He will never admit it to anyone, but He knows, He knows in His heart – because even God has one. He knows that Aziraphale and Crowley are both his betters.

He smiles to Himself, wondering if anyone will ever realize that He won't admit it because he is waiting for them to figure it out on their own.

"Eventually," He sighs. "Maybe someday, they will iall/i be my betters." And He cannot wait until that day, when everything will be just right.

"I love you, angel." It is a whisper in the dark, all light blotted out by the charcoal-black feathers of a demon as he holds someone close.

"I love you too, Crowley," is the reply. White feathers mix with the black, and a forked tongue meets a perfect one.

Together, in love, they make Just Right.

AN: The song is Show Me How to Live by Audioslave.


End file.
